


Necessity

by josephina_x



Series: Dimension 46’\-A [8]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (Ford does NOT feel safe), (and so he makes bad decisions), (and the results of), (poor Ford...), Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Anxiety, Gen, Hugging, One Year Later, Post-Series, Post-Weirdmageddon, Psychological Distress, See You Next Summer, Sleep Deprivation, Stress, Talking, video surveillance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 11:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17724410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josephina_x/pseuds/josephina_x
Summary: The Ford POV fic that takes place during Fr[i]en[ds and En]emies that nobody asked for, but that I’m writing anyway! (Yeah, okay, that’s technically a lie -- I know some of you were wanting you know what the heck was going on with Ford there… :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fic: Necessity  
> Fandom: Gravity Falls  
> Pairing: n/a  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Spoilers: through the end of the series, and some of the books (Journal #3)  
> Summary: The Ford POV fic that takes place during Fr[i]en[ds and En]emies that nobody asked for, but that I’m writing anyway! (Yeah, okay, that’s technically a lie -- I know some of you were wanting you know what the heck was going on with Ford there… :)  
> Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit.  
> AN: Man, I should’ve posted this sooner, but I didn’t want to because (at the time, before) I was trying to not post any WIP Gravity Falls works to this series, or in general. (Welp, that bridge has been burnt while crossing it!)
> 
> In the hopes of helping to keep the timeline straight, since I’ve been jumping around a bit here…  
> \-- Chapter 1 directly follows “Aggression”, and takes place a bit before and then during “Mastermind”.  
> \-- Chapter 2 takes place during the first-half or so of “Fr[i]en[ds and En]emies”.  
> \-- Chapter 3 (***WORK IN PROGRESS***) takes place directly after the second chapter / previous part of this fic (during the middle-portion or so of “Fr[i]en[ds and En]emies”).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This directly follows “Aggression”, and takes place a bit before and then during “Mastermind”.

\---

Ford had a sinking feeling in his stomach, and a growing anger in his chest, as he carefully balanced in a crouch next to the fairly decent-sized and still-smoking shallow crater in the forest floor, well into the woods surrounding the Shack. And he believed that he was perfectly justified in feeling that way for a very good reason:

Stan had lied to him, plain and simple.

His brother had lied to him _to his face_ about what Bill could do. Bill was dangerous, Bill was hiding it, and Stanley was _covering_ for him!

Ford didn’t know what game Bill was playing with him, given that Bill had quite literally _blown up_ whatever creature had been unfortunate enough to encounter him in the woods, but had run away from _Ford_ as if he was defenseless when clearly he was no such thing!

And ‘whatever creature’ was rather an understatement of the situation. Ford knew full well what cryptid it must have been from the roar he had heard from the Shack -- and even he would have had a hard time fending it off with his own gun. But at the site of the explosion itself, there literally wasn’t enough of the anomaly _left_ post-encounter to confirm or refute what it once had been, after Bill had gotten done with it.

But Ford had to face the facts now, upon having re-emerged from the lab to leave the Shack and survey the woods himself, now that he’d discovered and checked over the site of the incident and all of the evidence that was literally _coating_ the area.

Grim-faced, Ford slowly rose up from his crouch at the edges of the blood-and-gore spatter that had been painted across the forest floor.

Ford looked over the area he’d found once more, to be absolutely certain of the conclusion that he’d drawn, but he saw nothing that wasn’t consistent with the theory he’d previously formed: the crater and the sort of explosion necessary to cause the sort of damage he was seeing here could _not_ have been caused by any sort of ‘bear trap’ that Stanley might be able to whip up with non-exotic technology or materials.

Stanley having lied to him was bad enough. But now Ford was going to have to find a way to explain this to Dipper and Mabel, as well.

After he’d heard the explosion go off, and the niblings had come downstairs to ask him what was going on, he’d taken a moment to talk with the them, informing them not to go outside the Shack and repeating what Stanley had told him to them. He’d taken a quick detour down to the lab to grab what he’d been working on the past few nights -- praying to the Axolotl all the while that he was wrong, that Stan wouldn’t have lied to him about this, about Bill, no, not Stanley -- with a growing dread. He’d not liked the thought of Stanley possibly having made the woods horribly unsafe for the niblings with any number of explosive bear traps, but he’d liked the idea of Stanley potentially _lying_ to him to cover for Bill even less.

So when Dipper and Mabel had asked him what was going on, he hadn’t shared his fears with them then. He’d repeated to the niblings what Stanley had told him verbatim, hoping that his gut instinct and his intellect were both wrong -- mostly because he didn’t _want_ to believe it. ...And they had been wrong in regards to Bill before, after all, at the very beginning of things so very long ago. That was how he’d justified it: that he hadn’t been sleeping well the last few nights, and he didn’t want to scare anyone with what were surely only unjustified feelings of paranoid suspicion. He’d told himself firmly that it’d be better for him to wait until he saw the actual evidence before jumping to conclusions -- not least of which because it was something that Bill was involved in, and Bill was a master of deception when he wanted to be, but not even Bill could change the objective facts to suit his liking.

But the only conclusion Ford could come to that made any sense at all, that could explain what he saw here, out in the middle of the forest, was that Bill had a working form of highly potent and deadly magic available to him and at his disposal, and that Bill had used it here.

Ford’s hand drifted to his holster on reflex at the thought -- his _empty_ gun holster. He checked the motion, dropping his hand to his side, and grimaced again -- Stanley had taken his gun away from him earlier, on the way back to the Shack. This after catching up to Ford, while he’d been in the process of chasing Bill down for having attacked the niblings earlier, and nearly tackling him to get him to stop.

At the time, Stanley had cited how dangerous it was to be firing his gun indiscriminately into the woods when other people besides Bill might be around, and Ford had been unable to come up with a reasonable argument to the contrary in the face of such horrifying logic. And while the thought of potentially having hurt Soos or Melody on one of their outdoor tours had left Ford shocked and worried, Stanley had taken the opportunity to grab his gun away from him and pocket it… not that Ford had fought him much on it at the time. And Ford had remained worried in the extreme -- had even protested the forced-march back to the Shack, trying to turn around to go back and look for the others to assure himself of their safety -- until Stanley had informed him that none of the members of the Ramirez family were, in fact, outside at the moment, much to Ford’s relief and consternation.

He hadn’t seen Stanley put down his weapon inside the Shack while they’d both been back inside, so his brother must still have it on him. --And Ford was fine with that. Ford didn’t like the idea of Stanley trying to track down Bill outside the safety of the mystical barrier without some form of defensive weaponry on him.

...Then again, the last time Ford had given his gun to Stanley, his twin hadn’t kept it on him for use in an emergency, like any other intelligent rational adult with a working survival instinct would -- Stanley had stuck it inside the cooler out on the porch and then _sat_ on top of it, instead.

Ford clenched his jaw.

‘ _Where **are** they, anyway?_’ Ford wondered. Not that he wasn’t grateful for the lack of distractions, in the form of his twin being disagreeable and lying to him about Bill, or Bill himself trying to toss magical _explosions_ at him while he was out here alone, but... upon further reflection, he wasn’t entirely certain how he could have missed both Stanley and Bill on the way. Stanley had left the Shack for the explosion before he had been able to follow him out -- presumably to find Bill before he did.

However, all things being equal, Ford knew that he either should have passed by both of them, or otherwise heard a ruckus from the two of them, on the way out here. Stanley and Bill should have presumably either been on the way back to the Shack together -- with Bill being dragged back in the same way as Ford had been, except at gunpoint in Bill’s case. The other alternative was less likely, in Ford’s estimation -- that they were both still in the area, with Stanley trying to track and chase Bill down himself this time -- because they should have been making enough noise for Ford to have heard them if _that_ was the case.

And then it occurred to him: the only way he _could_ have possibly missed the two of them was if Stanley had actively tried to take a route through the forest that would keep them from encountering each other... just in case Ford ‘got it in his head’ to follow him out later, like he had.

...Which in retrospect made a great deal of sense, since Stanley seemed to take exception to Ford trying to shoot Bill, or otherwise run him to ground. And after confirming that Stanley had lied to him about the explosion...

Ford closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He breathed in and out, reaching for patience, since inner calm was continuing to elude him, before opening his eyes again.

This woolgathering wasn’t helping. --He needed to find Bill, post-haste. The kids were in danger while he was free and about, and Stanley clearly _wasn’t_ on their side. Not if he was lying for Bill, leaving him alone _outside_ with the _niblings_ without proper supervision, and keeping Ford from enacting punishment on him for his crimes.

Ford had thought that Stanley had been handling things like he’d said he would, because Stanley had said that he would -- but from everything that had happened today it was clear to him now that Stanley had been dangerously lax instead, _at best_. And now that he knew better, Ford could not let Stanley continue trying to prevent him from doing what needed to be done any longer.

Bill needed to be contained.

...And what Ford had put together in his lab over the last few nights -- cursing himself all the while as he did so -- _would_ do it.

It was something that Ford had originally thought to be a worst-case, final and desperate measure. Something that he’d only put together in a desperate bid to try to stave off a bone-and-guts-deep overwhelming craving for some sort -- _any_ sort -- of piece-of-mind. Something that he’d only done while driven by a terrible necessity, borne out of a paranoia that had come to him late-at-night these past few evenings and _not_ released him until he’d put in at least a modicum of time into making some sort of progress towards creating something which he _knew_ without a doubt would work. A measure that he’d conversely spent his daylight hours reassuring himself would be a method of last resort that he’d never have to take. --That horrible _something_ , a pair of twinned devices and their controller, were nestled down in the deep pockets of his longcoat, weighing him down in both body and mind, and he felt sick to his stomach but also solidly determined -- as he usually did when it came to all things Bill Cipher -- as he laid a hand over one of those pockets.

He really, truly hoped that he was wrong. He prayed that he wouldn’t have to use it. The first time… The first time he’d made something like this, he’d compromised himself without truly realizing it, all-but-caught unawares, simply because he hadn’t done as he usually did and not asked too many questions. But this time, he had no such excuse.

He would have no excuse this time, if he used what he had created on Bill.

Because Bill deserved it, he truly did, but… Ford hoped he was wrong, though, hoped and prayed to the Axolotl that the worst had not happened, that would drive him to use what he had made and compromise his own ethics yet again.

\--He hoped and prayed to a being that he wasn’t sure even existed that Stanley had not lied to him, because he wanted to still be able to trust his twin.

But if Ford couldn’t trust Stanley anymore… it wouldn’t matter if Ford kept his promise to himself -- that he would never build or use anything like those devices ever again. Because if Stanley wasn’t trustworthy... then what would it matter that Ford couldn’t keep his own promises, either? They could both be damned together for their actions, as far as Ford was concerned.

And if Ford had to use these damnable devices on Bill... well, Bill would deserve it, anyway. And at least it would keep them all safe.

\---


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This takes place during the first-half or so of “Fr[i]en[ds and En]emies”.

\---

Ford did not feel well.

He wished he had not paused in the Shack. He wished that he had grabbed his brother before he ran off. The only reason he had frozen as he had, in the face of Stanley’s claims, had been due to the sheer audacity of the size of the lie that had been told, and who it was in service to.

He wished he had not delayed further after that, but it was a fool’s wish. Taking the time to keep the niblings calm had been essential -- he could not have had them following him out, it was unsafe with Bill potentially able to cast magic out in the woods -- and if he’d run out of the Shack in a rush, yelling after Stanley as he’d wanted to, they would have been worried -- rightfully so! -- and run out after him and Stan, as well. After that, it had likely already been too late.

He’d further delayed his exit purposefully, to grab what he needed from the lab before following Stanley out -- no fool he. Stanley had taken his gun and still had to have had it on him, at least, but that had left Ford himself defenseless at-range. Ford had not been about to confront Bill again without something in-hand that could be used to combat Bill’s abilities, from whatever power they might stem -- magic, “weirdness”, or anything else.

Ford’s first, thoughtless thought, was that Stanley would be safe enough with his gun at-hand. But now, in considering how ineffective he himself had been at stopping Bill when he’d been trying to run him down in the woods -- and he being a good shot…

Ford practiced frequently with his gun to keep his edge in accuracy and speed, but he’d never seen Stanley even so much as hold a gun as though he were intending to fire it. His brother was many things -- a brawler, certainly -- but a sharpshooter? In retrospect, Ford would be surprised to find that that was one of Stanley’s many skills.

Stanley would not be able to bring Bill to task using Ford’s gun, even without taking Bill’s magic under consideration.

Now, upon further reflection out in the woods, Ford was forced to realize how unlikely -- if not impossible -- it truly was that Stanley would be able to bring Bill back to the Shack, now that Bill’s current capabilities had been exposed. Stanley and Bill both knew that Ford was no fool, to have believed Stanley’s lies even for an instant. They both had to know what Ford would do, what he would demand be done, now that Bill had shown exactly how dangerous he was, even in his current non-triangular form.

Bill was armed with magic, and they were outside the mystical barrier. There was no way that Stanley would be able to force the demon to do anything he didn’t want to do. Bill _wasn’t_ going to be coming back to the Shack of his own accord. Ford’s primary worry now was: had Bill taken Stanley with him, or no?

Given Stanley’s continued lack of presence, Ford was beginning to worry that Bill had disabled or subverted Stanley in some way -- beyond whatever he must have done to twist his brother’s will in the first place -- and forced Stanley to leave with him.

Ford didn’t want to consider the possibility that Bill might have killed his brother. He could not think of what dire or foul purpose Bill might possibly find Stanley of some use towards achieving, but… Ford hadn’t heard any more “explosions”, so he let himself feel a small but wavering hope that his brother was both alive and possibly salvageable.

With these truths held firmly at the forefront of his mind, Ford had started a search of the area in order to try and track down where they’d gone, taking a careful and curving path, starting at the center of the site of the magical ‘explosion’ that had taken place and spiraling outwards widdershins.

At first, he’d been surprised when he’d easily found a trail of what looked like Bill’s and Stanley’s footprints, clearly leading in a slightly circuitous route away from the site and with a general direction back to the Shack. But upon a second’s further reflection, he’d quickly discounted it, stepping over the path carefully and searching the forest floor and ground-level foliage with even more focus and caution. --Because surely, that had to be a false trail, didn’t it? _Surely_ , Bill would not have gone back to the Shack after having attacked the niblings so openly, after trying to avoid capture in the woods for the offense, and certainly not after openly attempting escape and being chased off by Ford himself. Bill would not have returned to the Shack after all of that -- certainly not after making the further mistake of demonstrating his magical prowess in the woods so blatantly! Surely not!

So Ford had continued his search.

And upon every circuit, he came across that single trail of two pairs of footprints small and large, and no other of that pairing.

Ford was having trouble breathing by the time he was nearly back to the clearing around the Shack.

\--He _must_ have missed something.

He turned and ran back the way he came. Arrived back at the clearing. Redid the search, from the start.

He was highly agitated by the time he’d completed the second spiral, and stalked back to the site, determined to search _everything_ within view, low and high -- perhaps they’d somehow escaped through the trees? -- and the middle in-between. He would leave no stone unturned, he would move at a torturous pace and this time, _this_ time he absolutely would find some sign of...

He was near-shaking with stress upon completion of the third spiral -- a spiral that he’d taken outwards even farther than the Shack, fully avoiding the clearing around the Shack entirely to search even beyond that. Because he’d found nothing. _Nothing_. Nothing _at all_. --He even remembered spying Stanley’s car in the driveway, which meant that they hadn’t returned at a quick pace and taken a faster mode of transportation farther away into town.

So where were they? The only trail, the _only_ trail he’d found, that could be them had been the one back to the Shack.

There had been the trail he and Bill had taken outwards in their pellmell run. There had been the trail he and Stanley had taken back to the Shack. There had been the trail he’d seen Stanley take out alone. there had been the few light traces of passing-presence Ford had left in his own searches just then. And there had been the trail Stanley and Bill had left together, back in the direction of the Shack, clear and strong. That was it. That was all there was.

And then Ford came to a standstill in a silent wood as a thought occurred to him.

...Had Bill _flown_ away?

Ford knew Bill could blow cryptids up with whatever power he had available to him. What evidence did he have that all of Bill’s usual and _full_ complement of powers were _not_ available to him at-present, beyond the lack of a second Weirdmageddon _**yet?**_

The answer was… **he didn’t**.

Ford shivered.

He took in a breath and tried to reason through what he’d seen, and what was most likely.

\--And then Ford turned and sprinted for the Shack in true alarm, already growing into a near full-blown panic.

Because Ford had come to the conclusion that if Bill had flown off, that Stanley could have been left behind to leave that full trail back to the Shack for Bill, explicitly in order to confuse the issue. --Stanley might even have been told to do so.

If Ford had taken the path at face-value and returned to the Shack, and if Stanley claimed that Bill was locked away in Stanley’s bedroom again, sight-unseen, once Ford questioned him on it--

If Ford went back and Stanley told him this-- If Ford was _stupid_ enough to believe his brother, to believe Stanley had _not_ been subverted or… or _brainwashed_ to Bill’s cause-- if Ford was stupid enough to _let things go_ and _not_ press the issue of the niblings’ safety, of Bill’s dangerous and predatory nature, it could be a full day or more before he might be able to determine the actual truth of the matter: if Bill was actually still in the Shack!

...And this was because, ever since Bill’s temporary residency at the Shack had begun, Stanley had put significant effort into making sure that the two of them weren’t out of the lab and Stanley’s bedroom, respectively, to be in the same place at the same time. Ford had become lax, had let himself become used to this state of affairs -- and was cursing himself for it now. Because if Stanley told him such -- that Bill _was_ present in the Shack when Bill in actuality was _not_ \-- and if Ford was stupid enough to fall for it, and if Ford then did not see Bill for even two or three days straight... Ford would have no reason to question it. At all. Because he’d actually gone three days without seeing hide or hair of Bill before -- not even so much as heard the sound of Bill’s voice -- twice already within Bill’s short and temporary stay at the Shack, before.

Being on Bill’s side now, Stanley might very well lie to Ford in such a manner, and the reason for doing so was one both very simple and expedient, indeed: he would do so in order to garner Bill an even-larger head start on Ford than the demon already had.

As modes of transportation went, in Ford’s experience Bill didn’t exactly float very _fast_ , at-speed. And if Ford was stupid enough to fall for it, all unaware of the truth, with Bill actually being out-and-about all the while, a day’s headstart would be disastrous. Two days? Unthinkable.

Ford wasn’t even sure that Bill would need two _hours_ of uninterrupted time to reopen the Rift, let alone entire days. Not when he had even a sliver of his usual powers available to him and at his disposal.

And Ford had already spent nearly an hour and a half searching the woods already.

\--He barely stopped himself before he crossed the threshold of treeline-to-clearing, before thinking twice about the wisdom of such. Bill knew what Ford was capable of, and Ford had no idea how badly Stanley had been subverted by Bill, yet. ...To work for Bill’s benefit was one thing, but to harm him or the kids?

The kids.

...And Stanley had Ford’s gun.

Ford tensed and tried to fight down a shudder. He wasn’t too late. He was _not_. He could not be. He would have heard--

Yes. He would have heard. His gun was not quiet. It was loud. He would have heard it, had it been used. By anyone.

And Stanley was no pushover, besides. He’d stood up to Bill’s influence, _inside his own mind_. It was far more likely that Bill had worked on Stanley a bit more indirectly, influencing him with words over deeds. Stanley valued the niblings’ safety above all else. If Bill had said something to him about _that_...

Ford had to fight down another shudder.

Because Ford remembered how Weirdmageddon had gone down, all too well. The only reason Stanley had stopped him from making a deal with Bill for the niblings’ lives was because Stanley had thought that Bill wouldn’t _honor_ it -- that once Bill had what he’d wanted, that the demon wouldn’t keep his word. So all Bill would likely have had to do to get Stanley even somewhat on his side _now_ , would have been to convince Stanley that he could make something far stronger than a mere and easily-breakable promise, something that Stanley would believe that he’d actually keep -- and Bill had certainly had enough time for it, to do such convincing; he’d been living in the Shack with them for a little over a week and a half now.

Ford pulled in a deep breath, and let it out again. He was nothing but nerves just then, and truly wasn’t feeling all that well from the stress, which wasn’t helped by the reduced sleep he’d been getting ever since Bill had come back. The nightmares…

Ford shook his head hard, reaching for calm focus and determination. ...And he didn’t quite make it. Once the immediate danger was past, he knew he’d need to spend at least an hour or two meditating in peace, trying to get back some semblance of balance… or, what little balance he could get, with Bill back and breathing down all their necks _because the demon was living in the same house as all of them!_

Ford pulled in another deep breath, let it out again, pulled in another, and then he moved.

\--Ford quietly made his way around the periphery of the clearing surrounding the Shack, staying well within the forest, a good ten yards in from the treeline. In doing this, he deliberately kept himself out of sight of anyone who might otherwise be able to look out at the woods from the Shack and see him, so much so that he was unable to see the Shack himself in turn as he moved.

He circled the Shack with great caution until he was past the sightline of both porches, and had come around on the kitchen-side of the building.

And only then did Ford make his approach.

\---


End file.
